Changing Minds
by Natalie3
Summary: How far would Lionel go to extend his own life?
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Not mine. Not sure who they belong to exactly, but definitely not me, mores the pity.  
  
This story came upon me like a cross between a sledgehammer and a leech. It bashed me over the head, and then refused to let go until I had finished writing it. I had fun writing this somewhat AU story, and I hope you enjoy!  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Warnings: None  
  
Summary: How far would Lionel go to extend his own life?  
  
Changing Minds  
  
Lionel Luthor stood in front of the floor to ceiling windows that graced his penthouse office in Metropolis and watched the sunset. His body formed a malignant silhouette to anyone unlucky enough to enter the room at this moment.  
  
The phone rang, and even before he checked the caller ID, Lionel knew who it had to be. "Yes?" he answered brusquely.  
  
"Mr. Luthor?" His doctor's voice was very young. He always seemed very brisk and eager. It was a trait that Lionel found annoying rather than endearing.  
  
He waited, not bothering to confirm his identity. Who else did the idiot think would be at the other end of this number?  
  
"We...uh, we got back your test results..." the young man hesitated.  
  
When it became clear that some sort of feedback was necessary, Lionel felt what little was left of his patience snap. "And...?"  
  
"I'm sorry, sir. The tumor is malignant. Now," and his voice picked up speed, "although it is inoperable, there are other options to consider. Chemotherapy has been successful in some..."  
  
"Thank you, doctor, that will be all." He hung up and set the receiver down without looking at it, his eyes seemingly fixated on some distant point in the Metropolis skyline. He remained motionless for almost ten minutes as the room grew dark around him in an unwanted metaphor. Abruptly he turned away from the windows and turned on his desk lamp. The days always grew shorter in the winter time. Midway through his forties, he really should know that already. Sunset was inevitable, as was his eventual demise. But perhaps one of them could be stalled.  
  
He tapped his intercom. "Michelle? Direct a call to Dr. Elaine Rushfield for me."  
  
In moments the familiar voice came over the line. "Mr. Luthor. This is unexpected." Perhaps she was glad. Perhaps she was distressed. Perhaps she was neither, but her tone was flat, giving nothing away, as always.  
  
"Elaine, I understand that your attempts to get further funding for that little...project of yours have all been completely stonewalled. People can be so backwards thinking sometimes, don't you agree? Human cloning is inevitable and beneficial as surgery. Only the small-minded would still consider that barbaric. You live in such a difficult time for progressive people."   
  
He wished he could see her face. Had she paled? Bit her lip in surprise? Given any sort of reaction? There was no way for him to know. Her voice was as collected as ever.  
  
"Mr. Luthor, you're a busy man. I'm sure you didn't contact me to discuss the sad and primitive state of our culture."  
  
He laughed. "Direct as ever. Actually, Elaine, I have something between a favor to ask you and an opportunity to offer you."  
  
"An intriguing combination, even coming from you."  
  
"I want you to meet me for dinner tonight so we can speak of this more securely. Are you free at eight?"  
  
They both knew she would agree even before she answered an affirmative.  
  
"I'll send a car to get you."  
  
To be continued...  
  
Feedback is always fun! 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Not mine. Not sure who they belong to exactly, but definitely not me, mores the pity.  
  
This story came upon me like a cross between a sledgehammer and a leech. It bashed me over the head, and then refused to let go until I had finished writing it. I had fun writing this somewhat AU story, and I hope you enjoy!  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Warnings: None  
  
Summary: How far would Lionel go to extend his own life?  
  
The room was dim, lit only by candles on the table. Under other circumstances it might have seemed like a romantic evening. Elaine wasn't a beautiful woman, but she was what most people would call 'striking.' Short blond hair would have framed her face in gentle waves if she hadn't had it pulled back into a no-nonsense bun. Large brown eyes were her most attractive feature. A smatter of freckles across her nose made her seem younger than she really was, and far more innocent.  
  
"Do you need salt for your steak?" Lionel asked as the servant who had brought them their dinner shut the door behind him.  
  
"It's perfect as is. Your cook is a miracle worker," Elaine replied with a sweet and insincere smile. This was an old game to both of them.  
  
She hadn't really changed a bit in any of the important respects. Lionel still remembered her as the fierce adolescent she had been when he first met her, all long graceless limbs and cold inquisitive eyes. He had known her for well over half her life, and while he wouldn't go as far as to trust her, he had full confidence in her abilities, and (just as importantly) in her discretion.  
  
"You're wondering why I asked you here."  
  
"I'm enjoying my steak. A poverty-stricken neurosurgeon like me can't afford to keep a cook," she teased.  
  
"You've had a remarkably successful practice; really made a name for yourself. I can't pick up any magazine with new discoveries about the brain without running into your name somewhere, usually as the pioneer in the latest line of study. Congratulations on your recent success with...what was it? Cleo and Patty."  
  
She looked blankly at him for a moment, then laughed. "Oh yes, subjects 423 and 425. My lab assistant named them. Bright young man, but a touch of the sentimental."  
  
"Does sentiment last long in your line of work?"  
  
"Not as a rule. And thank you. That brain transplant was a small step forward."  
  
"So modest. You single-handedly rewrote the rules of surgery. Both subjects alive and seemingly unharmed, just in one another's bodies. It seems like something from science-fiction come to life."  
  
"I think the assistants who clean the monkey's cages would object to your calling anything about this fictional. There was the expected difficulty in gaining motor control, and both repeatedly excreted at...inopportune moments."  
  
"But both subjects have completely gained back all previous functions?"  
  
"Completely, and have seemingly adjusted to their new existence without any apparent trauma."  
  
"Incredible. It's sad that you can't get funding for the next obvious move of performing the same surgery on a pair of willing human subjects."  
  
"People's emotions get in the way of such a radical step."  
  
"But you yourself are untroubled by the idea?"  
  
"I'm a scientist, Mr. Luthor."  
  
"I'm a businessman, Elaine, and I have a proposition for you."  
  
She raised her eyebrows. "Oh?"  
  
He hesitated for the first time during their conversation. "I've recently learned that I have lung cancer Elaine. And it is inoperable."  
  
There was a long silence.  
  
"However," he began again, "while this body may be doomed, who is to say I can't simply switch to another? With your help, of course."  
  
"Mr. Luthor...I don't have to remind you that this surgery has never been performed on human beings, and that such a drastic..."  
  
He held up a hand for silence. "I'm aware of the risks, Elaine, but my death by cancer within the next few years is a certainty."  
  
"Even if you are willing to take all the risks, there's still the problem of finding another willing subject. You know that subjects 423 and 425 were sisters? I need a close genetic match, and of course the same blood-type, or else the body will reject the foreign object, in this case your brain. So unless you have a brother I've never heard of..."  
  
"Does it have to be a sibling?"  
  
She stared at him, her lovely eyes wide with disbelief.  
  
He smiled at her shock. "I believe you've met my son a few times, Elaine. We both have AB positive blood, and half of his genes are mine. Wouldn't that be a close enough match?"  
  
"How..." she took a deep breath. "How does Lex feel about this scheme?  
  
"Ah well, I haven't really spoken to him recently."  
  
She nodded slowly. "You do understand that the average mind would regard this as a complicated form of murder, Mr. Luthor?"  
  
"But neither you nor I are possessed of what could possibly be considered an average mind." He reached across the table and took her hand. "Elaine, this is the opportunity of a lifetime for you. You'll never get another chance."  
  
He could almost see her mind racing as her ambition battled with what was left of her morals. "I...I'll do it," she said at last.  
  
"I thought you might." He poured the wine and raised his glass. "To progress."  
  
"To progress," she whispered.  
  
To be continued...  
  
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	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Not mine. Not sure who they belong to exactly, but definitely not me, mores the pity.  
  
This story came upon me like a cross between a sledgehammer and a leech. It bashed me over the head, and then refused to let go until I had finished writing it. I had fun writing this somewhat AU story, and I hope you enjoy!  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Warnings: None  
  
Summary: How far would Lionel go to extend his own life?  
  
The sunlight from the stained glass window broke across the angles of the furniture and poured onto the warm wood of the floor. Lex sat between two pools of light, seeming almost to glow in their reflections.  
  
"What brings you here, Dad?" he asked, never raising up his eyes from the papers on his desk.  
  
"A desire to see my son isn't reason enough?"  
  
"Not on this side of the family tree."  
  
"Actually, I wanted to celebrate." Lionel set a bottle of champagne on the desk.  
  
"And what, if I may ask, are you celebrating?" Now he looked up, gray eyes wary.  
  
"My health."  
  
"The tumor?"  
  
"Benign. You won't be rid of me as soon as you might have supposed." He opened the cupboard and rustled around until reemerging with two champagne glasses. "I feel like I have a new lease on life."  
  
"Congratulations," Lex replied very quietly. The room seemed to drop a few degrees in temperature.  
  
"Lex," Lionel tried to gather every bit of sincerity that he could into his voice. "Almost...dying," he paused, as though the words were hard to say. "I'm seeing things a little differently now, son. I wanted..." he looked away, as though ashamed. "I know I can never make up for any of my past mistakes. Can't we just start over? Completely. You and me. Begin anew." He carefully poured the champagne, surreptitiously studying his son's face. But it was blank, completely devoid of any expression.  
  
He put one of the glasses on the desk in front of Lex and raised his own. "Please, Lex."  
  
His son's eyes suddenly hardened and his mouth tightened almost imperceptibly. "I'm getting very tired of these games Dad. Just tell me what it is you want."  
  
"I want my son to be my son, and not my enemy." This was pathetic. It was so messy, needing the boy alive. But he was determined to get no one else involved. He would commit this murder by his own hand.  
  
The silence stretched out between them.  
  
"Lex...son...please. No more games. No more hatred. Just us, and a new beginning."  
  
Slowly, one of those pale hands wrapped a few of the long, elegant fingers around the champagne flute and Lex raised his glass, his eyes focused silently on his father.  
  
"To us," Lionel said and made as if to drink.  
  
"To us," Lex repeated quietly, he paused, then downed the entire contents of the flute at what would have been an unhealthy rate anyway, but even more so because of a few of the additions Lionel had made to the champagne.   
  
Lex suddenly dropped the glass as his hand spasmed and he fell across his desk gasping for breath. "What..."  
  
"Shush, Lex. It'll pass soon enough. This truly is a new beginning."  
  
"I always knew one of us would kill the other," Lex hissed painfully.  
  
"You never knew anything of the sort. I never planned on killing you until the other night," Lionel replied conversationally.  
  
His son laughed suddenly, a terrible choking sound. "So..." he gasped, "This is a spur of the moment murder?" He began to laugh again, and laughed and laughed until his body went limp and slid on the floor in a boneless lump.  
  
  
  
Lionel opened his eyes. Well, really, Lionel opened Lex's eyes. "I take it the operation was a success?" Then he noticed the tears in her eyes. "Elaine?"  
  
"I couldn't get your old body to wake up. I was too slow, and you weren't in very good shape, and it just...the machines couldn't...I couldn't..."  
  
"Elaine, enough, it doesn't matter." It was strange to hear Lex's voice the way his son must have heard it. "It was going to die within half a year anyway." He sat up, amazed at the flexibility of this youthful body with none of the aches and pains he was used to. The knee that he had broken in a car accident at sixteen was no longer stiff; the customary aches in his neck had vanished. He reached up a hand and felt the top of his head. Perfectly smooth. That would take some getting used to, but oh the freedom! The strength! The exhilaration of it all!  
  
Elaine interrupted his inner-monologue. "How do you feel?"  
  
He smiled at her; Lex's smile. "I feel like a new man."  
  
The End  
  
Authors notes: I haven't actually read the comics, but I think I've heard that later on Lex ends up getting a brain-transplant with a much younger clone of his, so it made me think...what if this hadn't been the first time.  
  
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